


Things We Didn't Say At All

by 1848pianist



Series: Some Heroes Do Wear Capes: Assorted Drabbles in the Marvel Fandom [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Natasha Romanov, Asexual Sam, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt "things you never said at all + steve/bucky/nat/sam" for Alex jewishbuckyy. It turned out longer than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things We Didn't Say At All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toxicbalance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicbalance/gifts).



> At this point Bucky & oranges has become an inside joke with myself.

**I. Sam**

Bucky and Riley are nothing alike, at least on the surface. Riley was brash, fun-loving, and something of a prankster – a typical soldier letting off steam in many ways, although it was part of his natural personality as well. From the way Steve talks, Bucky was much the same when they were growing up, but Sam has only known them in the present, post-Winter Solider. The Bucky Sam knows speaks aloud rarely, at least directly to him, smiles even less often, and in general keeps to themself.

Sometimes, though, Bucky reminds Sam of Riley so strongly that it hurts.

“Why can’t we keep oranges in the kitchen for longer than twenty-four hours?” Sam grumbles aloud to the empty room as he searches for something to eat after a particularly draining run. He looks up from the fridge to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, as they often do, watching him silently.

“Don’t suppose you would know anything about this,” Sam says.

Bucky shrugs innocently as they hold up one of the oranges in question, peeling it as nonchalantly as if Sam had never mentioned it. At the incredulous look which follows, they grin, sauntering off towards the living room where Steve is reading, unaware of the fruit-inspired drama taking place in the next room.

Sam goes off in pursuit, amused and sharply reminded of his old wingman and best friend.

“We bought those _yesterday_ ,” he says to Bucky’s retreating back. “Where do you _put_ them all?”

Steve glances up at the dramatic entrance, eyebrows raised. “Problem, Sam?”

“Someone’s eating all the oranges,” Sam says, folding his arms.

“I wouldn’t know about it,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky, who smirks back as if sharing in a private joke.

“They’re good,” they explain, finishing off the last segment of what Sam suspects is the last orange he will ever see in the apartment.

“Whatever, man,” Sam says, unable to hold back his own grin. “I’m resigned to a fate of second-class fruit from this point on.”

Bucky laughs, a rough, little-used sound, and turns to leave. At the last second before they reach the door, they turn and reach into their pocket. Before Sam can so much as blink, an orange is tossed in his direction. He barely manages to catch it before it makes contact with his head – thank you, pilot’s reflexes. In the single second it takes his brain to catch up, Bucky disappears to another room.

“Sometimes I think that Bucky is Riley reincarnated,” Sam says, sitting down heavily across from Steve, orange in hand. “Then I remember that they’re ninety years old and that I don’t believe in reincarnation in the first place.”

Steve smiles without looking up. “I think they since more than any of us give them credit for. Sometimes you need a reminder that you’ve got friends in the present, you know?”

“Seems like a lot to intuit,” Sam replies, shaking his head.

“I told you,” Steve says. “They notice a lot more than you might guess. How you react to things, things you say.”

“You did say that.” Sam peels off a segment of the orange, chewing as he thinks. “That’s the weird thing, though. I don’t think I ever said anything at all about Riley to them.”

 

**II. Natasha**

Today is an off day, Natasha decides as she gets out of bed, stretching and pressing her bare feet into the cold floorboards to wake herself up. There are no urgent missions today, no errands for the apartment to run, and as far as she knows, the world is not currently ending.

If it is, one of the boys will have to take care of it.

She pours herself a cup of coffee, making a face when she realizes Sam has switched it out with the plain old black stuff. Caramel coffee – that’s the real stuff.

She makes do with caramel-flavored creamer, though it’s not the same and mostly she just thinks that going to the trouble of brewing another pot seems too much like work. Breakfast is toast and the last scrapings of the blackberry jam left in the fridge. Automatically as she eats she’s filing away the locations of her roommates: Sam and Steve are probably out on a run, and Bucky is most likely still asleep. She does her best to turn off the part of her brain that functions as Black Widow 24/7, but years of training are hard to shake.

She turns the TV on to whatever movie Steve was watching the night before. It’s something from the eighties, loud and colorful and a little senseless, but it’s good for mindless relaxation, in an overwhelmingly kitsch sort of way.

Towards the end of the movie, she notices her mind wandering, assessing and cataloguing every noise from outside and the adjoining apartments. Relaxing is harder than previously expected. She changes the channel to live feed and channel-surfs for a while, wondering how any of them manage to shut off their thoughts for a few hours, or if any of them ever manage it.

Sometime later, when she has long since decided that nothing of value is ever aired on cable TV, Bucky appears, hair rumpled and squinty-eyed from sleep.

“Hey,” they say.

“Morning,” Natasha replies. “How about lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

“Pizza?”

Bucky nods.

Natasha orders by phone, wondering if other people get so satisfied by making normal phone calls that aren’t about anything more serious than extra olives, no cheese.

While they wait, Natasha sits at the kitchen table, drumming her nails against the back of the chair. It’s not completely unconscious, as she’s aware she’s doing it; an expression of restlessness rather than a nervous habit.

Leaning against the counter, Bucky glances at her hand with a look that suggests they know the reasons behind the tension.

“Sorry,” she says, pressing her palm against the surface of the table.

Bucky shakes their head. “S’okay. I get it.”

“You do?”

“You don’t know what to do with yourself.” They grin ruefully.

Natasha stares at them, wondering if telepathy is a working technology nowadays and whether the Winter Soldier would have had any use for it.

“I suppose not,” she admits.

“You don’t feel like you deserve a day off,” they continue, phrasing it as a question but speaking it as a statement.

“That’s spooky, you know that?”

They shrug. Nat glances down at her mug.

“Nat.” Bucky isn’t looking in her direction, but it couldn’t be more clear that they’re talking to her. “You know you’re allowed days off, right?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know.” Natasha smiles into her now-cold coffee, thinking that Bucky may have just given her the one thing she could never ask for: forgiveness.

**III. Steve**

After a slow week, relatively speaking, Steve takes advantage of the weekend to clean the apartment. It’s technically Natasha’s turn, but Steve knows she likes housework even less than he does. Actually, he doesn’t mind it – it just doesn’t exactly come naturally.

“Is Steve Rogers actually cleaning, or am I still dreaming?” Sam asks on his way to the coffeepot. Steve blinks, jolted out of his thoughts about, well…Bucky.

“Isn’t a little early for banter?” he asks.

“Never too early,” Sam replies. “What’s on your mind?”

“Who says there’s anything on my mind?”

“Sorry, I should have asked _who’s_ on your mind.” Sam grins. “Captain America only remembers to clean the apartment when he’s thinking about some _one_ – sorry, something – important.”

“Nothing pressing. And anyway, it’s not even technically my week to clean.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not thinking about our other roommate.”

“Why would I be thinking about Nat?” Steve asks, unable to resist.

“You know that’s not who I’m talking about,” Sam says, but he’s grinning anyway.

Steve sweeps the last of the crumbs off the kitchen floor. “So what if I’m thinking about Bucky? They’re my best friend.”

“They are,” Sam agrees. “But they’re more than that.” He drains the rest of his coffee in one long gulp, touching Steve’s shoulder as he slips past him on the way back up the hall.

Steve stands in the kitchen, lost in thought, until Nat walks in.

“Earth to Steve,” she says, looking fully alert although she probably woke up five minutes ago.

“Sorry. Thinking.”

She smirks. “Bet you were.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Did Sam ask you to join his club of attempting to read my mind?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha says. “Our first meeting was last night. You should come, it’d be much easier to tell what you’re thinking when we can see you blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” Steve says, just as Bucky walks in. “Hi, Buck.”

Bucky nods in his direction as Natasha sing-songs, “Blushing,” and exits the kitchen.

Bucky watches her go, then turns to Steve with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Just Nat being Nat,” Steve explains.

“Sure,” Bucky says, smiling a little.

“You, too?” Steve groans.

Their smile widens, and Steve that whatever he has or hasn’t said, Bucky knows exactly how he feels.

**IV. Bucky**

It takes a long time for Bucky to put what they feel into words, even in their own mind. They know that they feel safe in the apartment, safe in a way they haven’t felt even a glimmer of for seventy years. Things – this new freedom, talking, nightmares, among others – are still difficult, sometimes, but not so overwhelming as they were. They trust Natasha and Sam, and Steve is…well. Steve is Steve, as he always has been. Even before the Winter Soldier.

They know, once they realize it, that they don’t need to tell Steve or the others how they feel, because they all already know. This is home, and it always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the prompt + encouragement Alex! Someday I may return to this because I could probably have gone on much longer. :)


End file.
